Torrid
by scarylolita
Summary: After a fight with his sister, all of Craig's secrets are revealed. On top of that, his reputation as the town bicycle starts getting him into trouble. When he feels like there is nothing left to lose, reason is lost to the wind. Slash.


**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **More Craig angst I stg I just need to finish posting all of these 1shots and then I will come up with smth fresher lol.**

 **Anyway, if any of you guys are Token/Craig fans (a super pairing that doesn't get enough love), go check out the collab I'm doing with Nolotica! The link is on my profile. Also thanks to Nolotica for helping me proofread this yasss** **.**

 **Also go vote on my profile poll if you haven't yet yeeehaww~**

* * *

It was late. Craig's bedroom was dark with just a sliver of moonlight creeping in past the closed curtains. He was sick and drunk. There was a puddle of vomit on his floor and he was lying on his bed, letting out these pained moans in his half-conscious state. I turned to the bathroom and fetched the cleaning supplies, wiping away the mess before his parents could see it. He bolted upright and shouted at me. He said he didn't need help. He said he was fine. He said he could handle it. He said he would clean his own messes. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time because I knew none of that was true. I've always been here by his side cleaning up all his messes. It's what I do. His temper ended up making his hangover even worse and the following night we ended up fucking unceremoniously in the bathroom when he finished his shower. I could tell he was still mildly hung over, but he said he was craving human contact. There was no love. There was no hate. There was nothing and it made me sad because I wanted to feel something. I know he wanted that, too. It wasn't the right time. It was our first time but it wasn't the right time. Everything about it was wrong and he cried when it was over. I didn't know if it was because he was upset or if his hangover was bothered. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I didn't do anything. I hiked up my pants and I turned off the light because I was finding it so fucking hard to look at him. It didn't matter, though. Even without the lights off I could see the expression on his face clear as day – grievous and confused and alone in an existence he didn't yet understand. I felt nervous and I shuddered when he leaned into me. I tried to think about something else. I tried to distract myself, but I couldn't. All I could think about was Craig and I felt the heat of his skin pressed against mine. I didn't dare push him away. When he fell quiet I asked him if he was okay. He laughed. He said he was fine. We returned to his bedroom and he put on his clothes and everything was normal again.

I would have liked our first time to have been meaningful and emotional, but it was neither. Things have been tense since then. Right now, I'm sitting in the living room at the Tucker residence. Craig is sitting opposite to me and Ruby is sitting next to him. I can tell she's trying to stir the pot and get a reaction out of him. It's her favourite thing to do. She's a fifteen year old demon. They argue a lot, but they care about each other deep down. I think?

"I saw you with Kenny the other day," Ruby decides to say. "Well, I also heard you guys… You left the door open. I guess you didn't realize I was home."

"Shut up," Craig retorts.

I raise an eyebrow. "You were with him?" I ask, aimlessly channel surfing. "Why?"

"I wasn't… it was no big deal," he murmurs.

"So, which is it?" I deadpan. "You _weren't_ with him or you _were_ and it wasn't a big deal?"

"Drop it!" he snaps at me, looking frantic. He always gets angry when he feels trapped or caught in a lie.

Ruby starts to grin. "Craig and Kenny sittin' in a tree…! F, U, C, K, I, N, G –"

"Bitch, shut up!" Craig interrupts, cutting her off. He jumps out of his seat and stares down at her with wide, angry eyes.

So, they're fucking. He's having sex with Kenny. Well, that's just fuckin' great… I wonder who else Craig is doin' it with…

Ruby rises to her feet after him and they stand face-to-face. "I'd rather be a bitch than a dirty, nasty slut-face who will give anyone a piece!"

Thomas and Laura exit the kitchen a split second later, both looking weary. "Language, damn it!" Thomas growls. "Craig, don't call your little sister a bitch and Ruby, don't call your brother a slut! Jesus Christ, I never thought I'd have to say that."

"But he is one, Daddy!" she simpers.

Craig grits his teeth before glancing at his parents. "Well, at least I'm not a thief. Ruby shoplifts."

"Ugh!" Ruby shrieks. "Yeah, well… Well, Craig has a gay porn stash under his bed!"

"Ruby has a liquor stash under hers!"

"Craig smokes!"

"Ruby isn't a virgin!"

"Neither is Craig! He sleeps around!"

It's true and everyone at school fucking knows it. Craig has this list of conquests – guys he's let into his pants. It's a pretty big list. There are lots of jocks on it. He's tried going after me a bunch of times before I finally gave in. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it. I guess I feel something for him, which is more than he can say for everyone else he's been with. They just wanted to fuck him to say they did.

"So does Ruby!" Craig retorts, not missing a beat.

"Craig is worse!" she argues. "He flirts with your friends! He never wears underwear! He had sex with the mailman and his first therapist! He puts naked photos of himself on the internet! Karen found them and we looked at them and read the hundreds of dirty comments from gross old men!" When she's done her tirade, she lets out a breath and everyone simply stares at her.

"What?" Thomas finally roars, looking at his son with more sadness than anger.

"What?" Craig echoes, looking betrayed.

"What?" I chime in because I didn't know about the photos or the mailman or the therapist.

"Oh, God…" Laura groans, rubbing her temples.

"Ruby, you stupid _bitch_!" Craig screams. It sounds like he's two seconds away from having a temper tantrum. "It's no wonder Mom and Dad are always complaining about how fucking bratty you are!"

"At least I'm not _adopted_!" Ruby shouts to the room and suddenly it grows quiet.

I feel my eyes widen. I glance at Craig, who is wearing a similarly shocked expression. "What?" he asks hoarsely.

Ruby's lips part, but she doesn't say anything more. She slaps a hand over her mouth, looking like she just realized what she let slip.

"Ruby Laura Tucker!" their parents shout in unison. They're using her full name. That's how you know they're damn pissed off, so without further hesitance, she books it. She doesn't even bother putting on her shoes before leaving the house. I continue sitting here awkwardly, too scared to budge an inch. I want to remain invisible. I don't want to be dragged into this.

"Craig –" Laura tries, but he cuts her off.

"I'm adopted?" he asks her. "I'm eighteen… When were you going to tell me?"

"We planned to tell you when you were thirteen, but… it was difficult," she confesses gently. "We didn't know how to bring it up and then time kept passing. It got harder."

Craig lets out a sharp laugh that sounds like a sob. "So, what? You told Ruby, but not me? You weren't ever going to tell me?"

"We were…" Thomas insists gruffly. "We just wanted to wait for the right moment. This wasn't it. I'm sorry, son."

"It's okay," Craig says reasonably. He's being facetious, but I think I'm the only one who sees it. His parents are too enamoured with him, I swear. He can do no wrong in their books. He knows how to manipulate people. He does it with me all me time, according to Token. I guess Ruby and Craig are a lot alike, but Craig is better at hiding it.

Laura reaches forward and hugs Craig while Thomas claps him on the shoulder. "We'll talk more later." Later… as in when I'm gone.

After that, they leave the room.

Craig turns to me with the sourest look on his face. "Those fuckers," he hisses. He lets out a calming sigh, glancing at me. "I'm sorry…" he murmurs. "I shouldn't have tried to lie to you about Kenny."

"It's okay…" I say with a shrug. "It's not like we're together. We just hooked up."

"Still," Craig reasons, "You like me, right? Don't bother trying to deny it. I should have said something. If you're sleeping with me, then you deserve to know who else I'm going at it with – especially if it's a dirty meth head like Kenny who is probably five seconds away from going retarded."

"Well, I don't think he's on meth," I say with a bitter laugh.

Craig wrinkles his nose. "Whatever. He's on _something_. I see the marks. He looks so dead, half the time I'm surprised he can even get his dick up."

"Craig, dude…" I start. "Are you okay?"

He looks angry… justifiably. He'll probably pretend otherwise, though.

"I'm fine," he says simply. "Whatever. I shouldn't be surprised. I don't even look like my parents or Ruby. I'm the only person with black hair in my entire fucking family. All my relatives are gingers and blondes. I stand out like a fucking sore thumb at family gatherings."

"Still…" I reason. "It's pretty big news."

"I don't care," he responds decidedly, waving his hand across his line of vision dismissively.

"All right," I relent. "So… What now? What do you think your parents are going to do?"

"Nothing," he admits. "They know I have a lot of sex. They know I smoke. I mean, obviously they'd rather me not do those things… but they realize they can't stop me. Man, my mom got all emotional when she found out I started having sex…"

"Dude, you started having sex when you were thirteen," I point out. "I'd get emotional, too. That's just way too young. Plus, the guy you were having sex with was older. Ew."

Craig shoots me a dull look. "She didn't know the details, ass. She just likes to take care of me and doesn't want me to grow up."

"How did she find out, then?" I pry.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he nods at me to follow him upstairs. We move into his room and he closes the door before locking it for good measure. I sit on his bed and when he joins me, he finally says, "It's really fucking embarrassing and you can't tell anyone, all right?"

"Dude, I never spill your secrets," I remind him. "You know that."

"Still," he says. "I need to be reassured because this is quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Well, okay… I promise I won't say anything."

He nods his head and lets out a sigh. "All right… So, I was fifteen, a sophomore, and I was on the phone with some senior that I was hooking up with. I didn't have a cellphone at that point, so I was using the house phone. My parents weren't supposed to be home until nine…"

"Oh, God!" I cut in, grimacing. "They… They caught you having phone sex?"

"They caught me having phone sex," he says with a confirming nod. "After that, they sat me down for _the talk_. Pff, they were years late for that. They assumed that this was a first time thing and that I was just being curious, but I told them I'd been having sex for two years at that point."

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaim. "That _is_ embarrassing!"

He wrinkles his nose before nodding once more. "Do _not_ tell anyone," he says again.

"I won't," I promise.

Somehow, it's not the most shocking story in the world. Craig was a lot to handle at that age.

My freshmen and sophomore years were so stupid. I spent most of every day trying to get him to stop masturbating in class. We sat in the back, but it was still so fucked up. He goes through these phases of where he literally cannot control himself and his hand just ends up in his pants. I can't even count the amount of times he's made me hide in his closet while he had sex with random people. I fucking hate when he does that. Well, it doesn't happen much anymore. I think it was mostly when he was trying to get with me. He wanted to show me what I was missing out on. For the longest time, I didn't want to admit I liked him because I felt like he'd be winning some sort of game if I did.

"God…" he groans, flopping backwards onto the mattress and staring up at the ceiling. "They weren't supposed to know all the details… I'm gonna kill Ruby. They were happy _not_ knowing all the details. Now they're going to get disappointed and lecture me on self-respect. I do have self-respect. I could suck a million dicks and still respect myself."

"I know, dude, I know…" I say, pausing. "So, um… Who else are you hooking up with besides me and Kenny?"

"No one," he tells me.

"Who were you hooking up with, then?" I pry.

"Me and Kyle were fucking," he confesses with a shrug. "That ended, though. He sticks it to Stan now. I think he only liked me because I look like Stan. Same small build, same blue eyes, same black hair, same pale skin…"

"Shit," I say, unsure what else to offer.

He gives another unceremonious shrug and says. "Yeah, but whatever. Um… I dunno, I used to give Jason blowjobs. I was hooking up with a few other guys, too, but they were kinda assholes… It's hard to find nice guys because most of them just want a hole to fuck and then they compensate for the fact that they're doing it with a guy by being really fucking mean afterwards."

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

Craig is troubled. He says he respects himself, but I don't think he really does. He does this kind of stuff and, for him, it's like a form of self-harm. We're only eighteen and he's already tried to kill himself a bunch of times. The first time happened when we were fourteen. Ruby called me from the hospital and said Craig had a polysubstance overdose. He insisted it was an accident and everyone believed him. Even I believed him, but now I'm not so sure. It happened again a year later when we were fifteen and again when we were sixteen and seventeen. It's always the same method – he swallows all of his pills and whatever else he can find and then he earns himself a week in the psych ward. People get frustrated with him because they don't get it. They don't understand that he's seriously sick. It's not like he wants to make everyone suffer. It's not about us. He's not trying to depress everyone. He's just in pain. It's about him and he's doing whatever he can to stop feeling the way he feels. That's what people don't get.

I'm worried he's going to try again soon since another year is going by. It makes me sick to my stomach with dread to think about it. I feel like I'm trying to emotionally prepare myself for the inevitable.

He needs the hospital, but he refuses. His parents could have forced him in before he turned eighteen, but he manipulated the situation like he always does.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me.

"Nothing," I say with a shrug.

Craig likes to pretend he's stuck in this general state of apathy, but he's not. He feels things. He feels a LOT of things. He also has a bad habit of internalizing everything. He's so sensitive and easily upset.

* * *

Ruby ended up spending the night with Karen and returning in the morning. Craig hasn't said a word to her since. This is probably going to put a damper on their already tense relationship.

Well, they'll get over it… I hope.

Right now, I'm listening to guys in the locker room talk about Craig. It's pissing me off. It's the last day of grade twelve and Craig skipped. I'm starting to wish I did, too. Then at least I wouldn't have to listen to all these assholes.

"Craig isn't here?" Kenny asks me.

"He skipped," I respond.

"Craig is probably off being the town bicycle," Jason says. "He wants everyone to be in love with him. He gets physically close to people in an attempt to compensate on the fact that he is so far away mentally."

"You fucked him?" Kenny asks, cutting in.

"Not quite."

"Ew," Bill interjects. "I wouldn't touch him. You don't know where a person like that has been."

"I fucked him a few times," Kenny admits. "He's good. He fucks like he's on acid. It's great."

"Well, he IS crazy. They always say that about crazy people - they're good fucks."

"You guys don't even know him," I cut in, trying to keep my cool. "You guys act like he's so nasty yet you're drooling over him like fucking dogs. What does that say about you?"

Kenny snorts back a laugh. "Dude, everyone and their grandpa has seen Craig's _charm_. He whips it out every chance he gets and don't even get me started about what he does when _you_ leave the locker room."

I roll my eyes at that, but there is probably some semblance of truth to what he's saying. "Asshole. If you're fucking him at least be nice to him."

"Look," he reasons, "it's not like I'm trying to fucking court him. If I like sex and he likes sex and we're both available, then it's not a big deal if we do it with each other. It's not a big deal and it doesn't mean anything. I don't have to treat him like a fucking king or anything. I'm not his man." Kenny pauses and smirks at me. "But _you_ want to be, don't you?"

"That's _not_ true," I say tersely, but I'm lying out my ass. Everyone fucking knows I have a thing for Craig. I've always liked guys. So has Craig. That's probably why we drifted towards each other as kids. We had that in common and we became friends. We always danced around one another, but it wasn't until recently that things became physical. I want him to pick me. I want to be the only one he wants… but Craig doesn't play like that. He wants to be wanted – by everyone.

"Sure," they say with laughter. They don't believe me.

* * *

It's the weekend and right about now Kenny is probably picking Craig up for yet another _date_. I'm lying in bed and trying not to think about it but it's not really working because it's literally ALL I can think about. I get up and throw on my pajamas before brushing my teeth and swallowing a sleep aid.

Come morning, I study for finals with Token and his girlfriend, Nichole.

To celebrate the end of the year, everyone is planning a camping trip. Me and Craig will be sharing a tent, but I'm kind of dreading the possibility of him dragging some other guy in with us. I don't want to have to watch him get it on with someone else. I've had more than my fill of that through the years… and now that I know how I feel about him, I hate knowing he's with people other than me.

"Focus, Clyde!" Nichole hollers, snapping her fingers in front of my face to get my attention.

I smile sheepishly. "Sorry."

"What are you thinking about?" Token cuts in.

"Craig," I confess and they both roll their eyes.

I know they're both sick of all the drama that tends to follow him, but sometimes I think Craig secretly enjoys the drama.

* * *

The first exams are on Monday. They're the math exams. I take remedial math. Craig actually takes advanced math with kids like Token, Nichole, Wendy and Kyle. It comes easily to him, but he's a really bad teacher. He has no patience. That's why I prefer to study with Nichole and Token.

Craig finishes his exam before me, unfortunately. I'd like to catch up with him and talk, since he looks like road kill. Plus, I haven't heard from him all weekend. I left him alone, thinking he'd be studying, but instead it looks like he was partying. Hard.

I try to forget about it for now and focus on my exam. I need to do well. I want to pass. I want to get high school over with for good. Then I can stop thinking about it forever.

So, I stare down at my paper and get to work.

Fractions, decimals, simple matrices. It's all pretty standard, but I still feel the need to double check my answers about a hundred times.

By the time I'm finished, there are only ten minutes left of the exam and the room is nearly empty. Oh, well. I think I did okay. I hand my exam in and then I decide to clear out my locker. Two more exams after this and then I'll be done. English is tomorrow morning and my science course is in the afternoon. I have two other courses, but they're electives and you don't have exams in electives.

Craig won't have any more exams after English. He exempted the rest. He acts like a slacker, but he's really smart. He's probably too smart for his own damn good. I doubt he studied at all, but he'll still probably be able to pull off good grades. He always does.

After I gather my things in my backpack, I head out and start making my way to the Tucker residence. I knock at the door a few times before letting myself in. I've been here enough times to not feel weird about it.

I step out of my sneakers and hang up my jacket. When I'm about to turn upstairs, Ruby appears from the living room.

"Clyde?" she says my name in a questioning tone.

"Hey," I greet her. "Craig's home, right?"

"Yeah, in his room," she says. "I think he's asleep, though."

"Oh," I mutter. "Is he hung over or something?"

She frowns, crossing her arms. "Maybe… Something kind of weird happened on the weekend and he's just… been really tired, I guess."

I don't like the sound of that.

"What happened?" I immediately pry.

She glances to the side, leaning against the wall and sighing. "On Friday night I heard some footsteps coming from downstairs," she starts.

"Who was it?" I pry.

"I found Craig wandering around the house at like 3AM with literally _no_ clothes on," she says, her frown deepening. "He was super out of it, swaying a lot. He didn't even answer me when I said his name. I think he got roofied or something."

I grimace at that, hoping it isn't true but it's believable. It's not shocking, either. People get roofied a lot in this butt-crack town, but it doesn't always mean the worst. Sometimes it just means a bad joke. "Oh… shit," is all I say.

"I mean, I don't think anything happened to him because his clothes were just lying on the kitchen floor… but it was still weird," she says with a shrug. "Like, I know he doesn't remember much. He doesn't remember coming home. He doesn't remember me taking care of him or sitting with him as he puked. I took him into the basement and tried to help him get dressed. I mean, he sleeps down there sometimes so my parents wouldn't have been suspicious or anything. I just didn't want them to hear him getting sick. They would have gotten mad. They hate when he gets that drunk. Plus, I owed him for the fight we had."

"How is he now?" I ask, following her as she turns into the kitchen.

"Still hung over, I think," she admits, fetching an ice pack from the freezer. "That's probably why he was quick with his exam. I read online that if you get roofied you'll likely feel sick for at least a few days. So… I definitely think he was roofied. My parents just think he has the flu. I think he's stopped puking for the most part, but he hasn't left his bed much apart from the exam. Just to piss." A pause. "Kenny came to see him on Saturday… He said he's the one who dropped Craig home on Friday. They were at some party, I guess. He looked concerned. I think he knows what happened, but he didn't want to say. Craig wasn't really in the mood to talk. He was still really incoherent… He couldn't even really talk. Just a lot of mumbling. So, Kenny just left."

"Damn," I whisper, growing concerned. "Can I see him?"

She nods, handing me the ice pack. We head upstairs, slow and quiet. I push open the door to Craig's room and we move inside. It's dim and the curtains are closed, letting barely any light into the room.

"Hey," I greet, sitting next to where he's lying. I take the ice pack and press it against his head. He look like hell. He's kind of clammy and paler than usual.

"Do you remember anything?" Ruby asks, wandering into the room slowly.

Craig turns his head away from her. "Bits," he murmurs hoarsely.

"What bits?" she pries.

"The bit where you saw _my_ bits," he says tersely.

"Yeah… you kinda got naked," Ruby states.

"Lovely," he says cynically. "That's super."

"Look…" she starts, stepping further into the room, "I'm fucking sorry, okay? I'm sorry I was being a bitch and I'm sorry that what I said upset you. Don't bother denying it, because I know it did."

"Whatever," he mumbles.

"Kenny was here," she adds. "Why?"

"I don't fucking know," he responds. "Go away, Ruby… I feel like shit and I don't want to talk."

So, she leaves. I wait for him to tell me to follow, but he doesn't. He never does. Instead, he allows me to sit with him and tend to him.

"I was mad," he mumbles out of the blue.

"Why?" I pry.

"I was mad at my parents for not telling me I was adopted…" he continues groggily. "So, I wanted to go to a party. I wanted to have a drink to numb myself out of it. I don't know, I guess I overdid it."

I frown at that. "Talk to your parents."

"Later, maybe…" he murmurs.

* * *

After a few hours of tending to Craig, I go find Kenny. I walk to the poor part of town and knock on his door before simply letting myself in. It's getting late. I can hear voices from the kitchen, but none of them are familiar. I go straight upstairs to Kenny's room. There's no door. The hinges are empty. Inside, I see him lying on his bed half naked. His bed is a simple mattress in the center of the room on the floor. With him is some girl a year younger than us. She's pretty and in a similar state of undress.

"Kenny," I say.

Neither of them answers. They look coked out or something.

"Kenny!" I raise my voice.

Lazily, he sits up. "Whaaat?" he asks airily. "Are you real? Why are you at my house?"

"Yes, I'm real!" I snap. "We need to talk."

He doesn't ask me what it is I want to talk about. Instead, he sighs and simply nods his head. "Yeah…" he murmurs. He nudges the girl and says, "I have to do some shit. You can hang around here if you want, though. I'll be back in a few."

"Mm…" she responds hazily.

Kenny stands up and puts on a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt before following me out of the room. We head downstairs and outside, sitting on his front porch. He pulls out a cigarette, lighting it. He looks weary and tired, like he's already half dead.

"Talk," I tell him.

"About?" he asks.

"You know what," I say. "You were with Craig… What the fuck happened that night?"

Kenny closes his eyes, rubbing a palm down his face. He stares down at the cigarette between his fingers and for a while, he's completely silent.

"I know what you're thinking," he says quietly, "and it wasn't my fault. I didn't give him anything. I didn't touch him. I didn't hurt him."

"Just tell me what the fuck happened, then!" I snap, getting impatient.

"I said I'd meet him at this party in Cherry Creek," he starts hoarsely. "He wanted a party, so I found him one. I was messaging him, but I arrived a bit late because I got side tracked…" Before I can pry, he says, "My parents wanted me to carry out a deal for them… So, I did that before heading to meet Craig. It was late by the time I got there. I couldn't find Craig. He wasn't responding to any of my messages. The girl who was throwing the party was running around telling people not to leave their drinks because some people got drugged. I got kind of scared, so I started running around the house looking for Craig. Eventually I found him in a backroom in the basement with two guys. It looked like they were just messing with his head, but I don't really know what happened to him before I got there… I don't really want to think about it. I don't think anything happened. I mean, I hope nothing happened. He was still dressed and shit. I hope they were just trying to scare him… Maybe it's their idea of fun. I don't know. He was just lying there staring up at what looked like nothing in particular. He didn't look aware, but I knew he at least knew partially what was happening to him. He just couldn't react… and now he probably doesn't remember."

I feel my eyes widen and I let out a sharp hiss. "Fuck…"

Kenny lets out a shuddery sigh, tossing the cigarette after just a few puffs. "I started screaming at them to stop. God, I wanted to fucking kill them… I went fucking nuts on their stupid asses… Anyway, they dispersed. I guess they didn't want me to make a worse scene or call the cops or whatever. I wish I did, but my first priority was Craig… I debated taking him to the hospital but I knew he'd hate me for it. So, I carried him back to his house. I just kind of dropped him there and then left because I didn't know what else to do."

"Fucking hell," I say.

"It's a problem here," he murmurs. "It's happened to me twice. It's happened to my sister, too."

"Sorry," I sympathize quietly.

He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It is what it is," he says. "I'm detached… and I know I can handle really bad things. I guess I'm used to it because of the constant dying. This is just another shitty event I've grown accustomed to."

"You shouldn't have to grow used to shit like that," I tell him, feeling so fucking sad for him.

He wrinkles his nose. "I just feel bad when it happens to other people… people like Craig and Karen… because it's something no one deserves."

"You have to tell him," I say firmly.

"God, it's going to fucking kill him…" Kenny bites out.

* * *

Soon enough it's the day of graduation. We're all gathered backstage in our green gowns. My dad isn't here, I already know that… but I don't really care. It took a lot of whining to convince Craig to come. He isn't really a fan of this kind of attention. He tended to skip his oral presentations. He doesn't like when the spot light is on him.

"I don't want to do this," he mutters, fidgeting with his hands. It's weird to see him nervous. He hardly ever gets nervous.

"It's only for a minute," I remind him. "The vice principal will call your name, your walk to the center of the stage and accept your diploma and shake the principal's hand, have your picture taken, then you'll exit the stage and take your seat."

Everyone is here except Tweek. Naturally, he wasn't going to come to an event like this. He's more nervous than Craig is when it comes to this stuff. He'd never make it across the stage. I know the only reason Craig is here is because his parents wanted him to. I think most parents want to see their kids walk across the graduation stage. It's something to celebrate.

Craig pokes his head out, staring at the hundreds of faces in the auditorium. He continues fidgeting with his hands. I feel kind of bad for him.

I put a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly trying to ease him.

Craig turns away and spots Kenny staring at him. He's standing with Cartman, who looks like he just heard something amusing. "What?" Craig snaps, approaching them. I follow after him, but I stay quiet.

Kenny only smiles. "Nothin' much."

Craig narrows his eyes, not believing it for a second. "You're talking about me," he accuses. "I _know_ you're talking about me. So, stop."

"You like when people talk about you," Kenny retorts.

"Depends on the context," Craig says and we _all_ get what he's hinting at.

"Oh, you're dirty," Kenny taunts.

"Says you!" Craig snaps. "You once sucked dick for KFC, so shut the fuck up!"

Cartman snorts back a laugh. "Hell, _I'd_ suck dick for the Colonel's chicken."

"You have such a potty mouth," Kenny says to Craig.

"Suck my ass," Craig seethes.

"Been there, done that," Kenny retorts lewdly, causing Craig to scoff.

"Yeah and not well."

I resist the urge to rub my temples.

Soon enough, the teachers force us to get into alphabetical order. Token gets up on the stage and gives the valedictorian speech. Kenny sings a song while Wendy plays piano. Then the principal begins to call names.

When the principal calls my name I hold my head up and walk to the center of the stage, shaking hands with the VP and accepting my diploma. I hear the camera click and I continue off stage, taking my seat.

I watch with little attention until Craig's name is called. I can tell how uncomfortable he is, but I doubt anyone else can tell. Soon enough, he's off stage and sitting a couple rows behind me. I turn around and hold my thumb up at him. He offers a dull smile in return. He's probably more than happy to have gotten that over with.

Soon enough, everyone has walked across the stage and the students grow restless as the ceremony comes to a close. The crowd of students rise. Everyone cheers, taking off their graduation caps and tossing them into the air. "Whoo!" I shout, tossing mine up before finding Craig.

He stares at me and rolls his eyes. I smile at him before taking the cap off his head and throwing it up for him.

"It's tradition," I tell him.

"Fuck tradition," he says. A pause. "My parents want to take us out for dinner as congratulations."

"Sounds fun."

* * *

After a long and leisurely dinner, Craig's parents drop me off back home and I decide to get ready for the camping trip. We'll all be heading to the woods tonight and staying for the weekend.

I head to my room, changing out of my suit and having a quick shower. I know I won't be able to shower when we're all camping, but at least we'll be by the lake. So, we can still swim.

I put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt before grabbing a duffle bag. I put in a couple changes of shorts and shirts, toiletries and of course a bottle of liquor. I guess it's kind of a moronic idea to drink and swim. Someone could drown… but I doubt it. Plus, not everyone is going to get smashed. I'm certainly not going to.

After I'm all packed up I head back to Craig's. By now, Bebe, Red, Nichole and Token are already here.

"Finally!" Bebe exclaims.

"Sorry," I snort. "We all ready?"

"Yes!" she exclaims.

After saying bye to Laura and Thomas, we all pile out of Craig's house and into Token's car.

Craig starts drinking on the drive up, though it only takes us about fifteen minutes to arrive at the clearing. By now, it's already packed with our now former classmates.

"We're still sharing a tent, right?" he asks me when we step out of the parked car.

"Of course," I say.

Bebe rolls her eyes at the both of us. She probably knows about all the screwing around me and Craig have done. She has some sort of radar when it comes to who is fucking who.

Nonetheless, I ignore her and me and Craig set up our tent. Well, I do all the work. Craig just watches. I don't mind, though. He's not really into this stuff. Me, on the other hand… I love camping.

As soon as it's done, Craig sits inside. I decide to socialize a bit before joining him. But first, I crack open my large bottle of Colt 45. It's the worst tasting beer in the world, but it's cheap.

I head straight for Kenny and pull him aside.

"What's up?" he asks. He's swaying slightly and there's a pint of Captain Morgan spiced rum in his hand.

"When are you going to talk to Craig?" I question in response. "It's been, like, a week…! You need to bring it up with him."

He frowns. "I don't fucking know how…"

I let out a sigh. "Don't do it now… Just… let him enjoy the weekend. Do it on Monday, okay?"

Kenny nods his head.

"Promise me," I urge.

"I promise," he mutters. "Shit."

I nod my silent thanks before heading off to see what everyone else is up to. I chat up my usual crew before meeting up with Jason, Kyle, Stan, Wendy, Butters and everyone else.

After a good couple hours, I decide to check on Craig. I thought he might've wandered out by now, but he hasn't.

I unzip the tent and get inside with my shit. The sleeping bags are already laid out. Craig probably set them up. He is sitting in the center wearing just his shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He has his phone in his hand, though I'm not sure why. I don't even know if he's drunk or not. He gets drunk fast these days. It isn't because he drinks a lot, it's just because of the way his medication mixes with alcohol. That's why sometimes he is a handful.

"There's no signal out here," I say.

"I was taking pictures," he says with a coy smile before putting his phone in his bag.

No explanation needed.

"They're having a fucking hot dog eating contest," I say with a chuckle, changing the subject and sitting down with him in our tent. "They're all gonna end up hurling."

Craig snorts at that. "If I was out there, I'd win."

"I know," I admit with a laugh.

Craig eats like a horse, but he's so slim you'd never know it. He's a runner. You'd never know that either because he acts so lazy. He says running helps him sort out some of his negative emotions. Plus, I think he likes having a lot of stamina.

"So, why aren't you out there?" I ask him.

"I don't want to be," he says simply. "I just wanna hang out with you."

"Oh," I respond. I settle on my sleeping bag, putting my liquor away. I've had enough for now. It's still early and I want to pace myself.

Craig zips the tent back up and then turns to me, "Who were you talking to?" he asks.

"Everyone," I tell him.

"About what?" I pry.

"Mostly just school and whatever."

"Did anyone talk about me?"

I shake my head. "No one."

I understand why he asks all these questions. They seem pointless to me. Sometimes they even seem weird, like he wants to know all of my business… but it's not about that. Sometimes he feels threatened or like I don't care about him. So, he wants reassurance. I never mind giving it to him.

Craig shifts, moving onto my sleeping bag. "So, are you mad at me?" he asks. "Be honest."

"No," I say.

"Are you jealous of Kenny?" he asks net.

"No," I say again, but this time it's a bit of a lie.

A split second later I feel his hand on my dick. "It's okay if you are," he tells me.

"But I'm not," I insist.

"Sh," he hushes, pushing me back so I'm lying down. "I'll make you feel good."

"Craig –"

"I want to," he says. "I'm sober, so chill out."

And, just like that, I relent. I lift my hips and let him hike my pants down. A split second later I feel his mouth. I close my eyes and try to enjoy it. Fuck knows Craig is good at this. I'm just not into exhibitionism and if anyone caught us I'd probably die of shame – not because I'm ashamed of Craig… I just don't want to be caught with my dick out by someone I'm not messing around with.

Maybe it's the fear of getting caught, but I don't last long. Maybe it's a kink I didn't know about.

When Craig is done, he pulls away, raising his head and then shifting forward so he's hovering over me. He leans down and we kiss and I can taste my jizz in his mouth but I don't really care. I'd be an asshole not to kiss someone who just sucked my dick.

When he pulls away, he stares at me and I stare at him, into his bright, blue eyes. I love his eyes. They're so big. Somehow, they make him look innocent, though I know he's not.

"What's with you lately?" I ask him.

"I'm hypersexual, I guess," he explains carelessly. "Probably another part of the other stuff. It comes in cycles, just like everything else. Sometimes I get so horny I feel like I'll do it with anyone and everyone. I crave attention, so I post photos online and webcam with random guys. I'm never satisfied. I fuck and fuck and fuck and I still want more because I'm such a slut. There are days when literally all I do is jerk off and I literally can't stop."

"Come on, don't call yourself that," I reason.

"It's true," he says decidedly. "I'm not ashamed. Why bother denying it?"

"Well, okay…" I start slowly. "You like sex, but so what? Slut… It's just not a nice word and it has such a mean connotation, you know?"

I hate that word. It's so ugly. It reminds me of all the guys who used to call Bebe a slut back in freshmen year. They did it until it got stale. I punched a lot of assholes who tried to talk shit about her. I'd do the same for Craig, too, if he wanted me to.

"Whatever," he says. "I don't care."

I think he does, but I don't try to argue with him. He'd never let me win. So, I change the subject. "You should date me," I suggest lightly, preparing myself for rejection.

"Hm," he muses, tilting his head to the side. "Maybe."

Well, I guess that's better than a flat-out no, which is the answer he usually gives me.

I just smile. "All right."

He lies down on his sleeping bag and sighs. "I should brush my teeth. How does this even work? Do I spit in the lake or what?"

I let out a snort. "Just spit wherever. I guess it doesn't really matter. I doubt most of the kids here are even gonna remember to brush their teeth tonight."

He sits up again and grabs his bag, sifting through it until he finds toothpaste and his toothbrush. I join him as he leaves the tent and we wander around, brushing our teeth and spitting carelessly. Afterwards, we pee behind a tree. When we're back in our tent, Craig makes me use hand sanitizer.

"It's not that late," he says, "but I'm honestly tired…"

"Probably from the liquor," I tell him.

"Probably," he agrees, lying down.

I lie down with him and then we're quiet, but he shifts towards me. He always does. It's like he needs to be close to people.

* * *

The rest of the trip goes by much the same. I go between hiding away with Craig in our tent and socializing with everyone else. I swim a bit, too. By Sunday, Craig finally spends time with the rest of us. He doesn't look like he's having much fun doing it, though.

We drive back home on Sunday night and I go to bed early to recuperate from a busy weekend.

Come Monday evening, I head to Craig's but he isn't home. So, I wander around town for a bit until I see Craig walking out of Tweek Bros.

I hold up my hand, calling his name as I approach him. He's holding a cup of coffee, looking like he needs it.

"Hey," he greets me wearily.

"Where were you?" I ask.

"A friend's house," he says vaguely.

"Well, who were you with?" I pry.

"Jason," he answers.

I wrinkle my nose at that, but bite my tongue. Jason is so crude when it comes to Craig. I hate the thought of them spending time together.

"Kenny didn't ask to see you?"

He shakes his head. "Why would he?"

I just shrug. "Never mind," I say. "So… what did you guys do?" I ask expectantly.

"I just felt bad for him," Craig admits in a murmur. "Like… his dad is so oblivious. He was just sitting on the couch flicking through channels. Jason greeted him but he didn't even respond. It was messy and there were empty beer cans all over the place. The paint on the walls was chipped, the carpets were stained, it was so small and so musty… We went to his room and I just kinda said I'd suck his dick…"

"You sucked his dick because you felt bad for him?" I ask in a deadpan. "For fuck's sake, Craig…" I sigh his name piteously, "that's _not_ how you connect with people, dude…"

He doesn't look like he cares. He drinks his coffee and I walk with him for a while. We walk aimlessly and I just follow him around.

I send Kenny a text, telling him to come to Craig's house when we begin to walk back. He shows up when we're walking up his driveway.

"What the fuck are you doing at my house?" Craig asks, acting rude as hell, but I suppose it's warranted.

"I wanna talk to you about something," Kenny says in a serious tone.

Craig frowns, not liking the sound of it. "All right…" he agrees tentatively. "Come on."

The three of us enter his house. I don't follow them when they head to Craig's room. Instead, I sit in the living room with Ruby. She's leafing through a magazine.

"What are they doing?" she asks, not bothering to look up from what she's reading.

"Talking," I say.

She scoffs.

"They are," I tell her. "They're just talking."

"Probably not for long," she mutters. "That's probably what Craig told you so you'd wait for him to finish."

I let out a sigh. "Wow," I start sarcastically. "It's nice to know you think so highly of your brother."

"I love Craig, but he's a fucking whore," she says.

"That's not nice," I respond. She's so damn cold.

She pauses and finally stares away from her magazine and up at me. "It's true, though."

"There are plenty of other words to describe him and his behaviour," I point out tartly. "Just say… promiscuous."

She rolls her eyes at me before sticking her nose back into her magazine. I sit on the arm of the chair and stay quiet, listening for any potentially dangerous sounds. I don't hear anything. No loud sounds, no banging, no shouting. That's a good sign, I think…

But when Kenny comes back downstairs, he has a palm pressed against his cheek. As he lowers it, I see a red mark. Craig must've slapped him.

"What happened?" I ask nonetheless, wanting to get the story straight.

Ruby sets her magazine down, looking suddenly interested.

Kenny sighs and shrugs. "I told him what happened. He didn't really say anything. He just shrugged it off and kissed me, starting feeling me up beneath my shirt and I kind of pushed him away, y'know?" He pauses, staring at me. "I mean… I knew he was probably just too surprised to register it or something. I don't know. I just knew I didn't want to do anything with him after telling him something so heavy. Just because he doesn't remember it that doesn't mean it didn't happen. I think he knows that, too. So, I told him I didn't want to take advantage and he got upset and he hit me and told me to go."

"Shit," I mutter, raising my hand and chewing on my thumb. I glance at Ruby and she looks scared and suddenly something in my head clicks. "Shit!" I repeat, shouting the word this time. I shove Kenny out of the way and dive up the stairs with Ruby behind me.

Craig's door is closed. I reach for it, but it's locked. I bang on it and shout for him to open up, but I get no response. I glance at Ruby, at a complete loss. Kenny hovers, looking confused.

"Knock it down!" Ruby pleads.

"What the fuck is going on?" Kenny asks.

I let out a heavy breath before sucking in another. I back away and then run forward as fast and hard as I can. Craig's door swings open and I fall to the carpet. Craig is lying a few feet away. I hear Kenny gasp and then I hear Ruby frantically tell him to call 911.

"I knew this would happen again," I whisper, crawling towards him.

He tries every fucking year.

"What do I say?" Kenny shouts, panicked.

"Unconscious eighteen year old male, polysubstance overdose," I tell him, trying not to hurl.

Ruby kneels down with me and presses her ear to his chest. "He's breathing… slowly… but he's breathing…"

Kenny relays the message to the person on the other end of the line and then he hangs up. "Shouldn't we make him puke or something?"

I shake my head, staring down at Craig and watching his soft breathing. "No. That'd make it worse."

Kenny is quiet. Soon we can hear the sirens wail. He leaves the room to meet them outside. I finally force myself to stand and I let the paramedics do their job. Some nosy neighbours are poking their heads out to see what the commotion is. Ruby rides in the ambulance and me and Kenny meet her there. I call Craig's parents. They're frantic.

The rest goes by in a daze. We speed to the hospital and Craig is wheeled down the hall.

Me and Ruby sit in the waiting room and wait for Laura and Thomas. I put my head in my hands. I know he'll be okay, but my heart is literally broken. It breaks apart the more he does this.

Ruby sits next to me. We're both quiet, but she's crying.

"Why does he always do this?" she asks in a wet, angry voice.

"I don't know," I whisper. "He's sick."

When Craig's parents arrive they look tired and sad. Kenny arrives a few minutes later and helps us relay what happened. Kenny doesn't reveal what he said to Craig – he simply says he upset him. Craig can reveal the rest if he wants to.

The five of us wait in silence until a doctor finally appears and tells us what we already now – Craig is going to be okay. Physically. He's on suicide watch. Naturally. He'll have to spend time in the psych ward. Again.

His parents and Ruby go see him first. I kindly wait outside. I try to be patient, but I want to see him. After what feels like an hour, they let me and Kenny visit him while they speak to the doctor about other options.

Craig is lying in a bed, looking angry and tired and embarrassed. It's a look that is distantly familiar. He wears it every time he tries and fails to kill himself.

But sometimes I wonder if he's truly trying to kill himself. Sometimes I wonder if it's just a desperate cry for help and attention when he feels too overwhelmed. I think if Craig really, really wanted to kill himself… then he would.

For a few minutes, we're all completely silent. Kenny is the first to speak up. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I don't know why… I guess I feel like this is my fault."

Craig closes his eyes, almost like he doesn't want to see either of us. "It's not. You don't have to stay here."

Kenny glances at me and shrugs. "All right," he says to Craig. "Um, I'm glad you're not dead. I'll come see you later… Bye."

With that, he disappears from the room, leaving me and Craig alone.

"Did you tell your parents what Kenny revealed to you?" I ask.

Craig nods his head. "They pretty much guilted me into giving them answers. So, I said I got roofied but nothing happened."

"They still did it, though…" I reason. "That's something."

"I guess," he says tartly.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"My parents don't want me to have sex with anyone anymore," he adds, scoffing. "They think I need a break. They want me to stop doing it with people I shouldn't be doing it with. They want me to work on myself and eventually get into a stable relationship with someone who is, in their words, good enough for me. I think they mean someone who will take care of me when I need it and not make things worse." A pause. "So, I guess they'll be monitoring me a little more closely…"

I frown. "Is any of that really gonna stop you?"

He smiles faintly, looking tired. "Probably not."

To be honest, I wish it would.

"Did you know?" he asks suddenly. "Did you know long before I did?"

"Kenny told me," I whisper. "I just… I wanted to tell you, but I thought it'd be best if he did."

"I'm not mad," he says. "Are you mad?"

"A bit," I admit.

"I'm sorry," he sighs out. He sounds so fucking tired.

I just shrug. I decide to say bye. I don't want to be around him anymore today. He's on suicide watch, so I know he's safe for now.

* * *

Ruby keeps me updated over the next week, since he isn't allowed to have visitors. He's just supposed to be concentrating on himself with the help of specialized doctors in a psychiatric facility. I don't really know how a week can make a difference, but whatever. They probably just want to make sure he's not going to kill himself again any time in the near future.

I contemplate on calling him when he's released, but instead he shows up at my doorstep.

"Oh, hey," I say, somewhat surprised to see him.

"Hey," he echoes. "Are you still mad?"

"Kind of," I admit.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Well, get over it because it's not about you, it's about me."

"You know," I start, "people aren't going to take care of you for your whole entire life."

"I'm just a kid!" he snaps. "Someone _has to_ take care of me!"

"That's fucking stupid," I mutter. "You're eighteen."

He grits his teeth. "Shut up," he bites out. "You don't know anything about anything!"

"Well, I know you're a spoiled brat!" I bite back.

This isn't good. I'm letting my anger get the best of me. I need to be better than this, more understanding… I always thought I was, but he's driving me fucking crazy.

Before I can apologize, he slaps me in the face. It's not particularly hard, so I know he didn't put much feeling into it. If he did, it'd probably sting a lot. With that, he turns around and stomps down my driveway.

I hesitate, but then I decide to follow him because I don't want him to do anything stupid.

"I'm _sorry_!" I call after him.

"Shut up," he retorts. "You don't sound sorry. You just sound mad."

"I want you to fucking talk to me!" I plead. "I'm mad because you don't and instead you try to hurt yourself! It fucking KILLS me!"

He pauses, allowing me to catch up. "It's not about you," he says again. "I'm not thinking rationally when I feel that way. It's just overpowering grief and it makes me want to do something crazy and bad to punish myself."

"Why?" I whisper. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He softens. "I'm always getting myself into these bad situations," he murmurs. He lets out a bitter laugh. "I'm fucked up and self-destructive. I purposefully expose myself to things I know will trigger me and then I get sick and I cope with it all by hurting myself some more. I vow not to make the mistake again when I'm feeling myself, but then I do because I'm too sad to care. I pretend that it's a big accident and that I'm not actually seeking out stuff that will set me off… but that's just a big fuckin' lie. It's like I WANT people to hurt me… and I don't know why."

I let out a breath. "See? This is a good thing, Craig. You're talking to me."

"How will it do any good?" he mumbles.

"It feels good to let things out," I explain. "It's better than doing something potentially harmful, right?"

He wrinkles his nose at me and lets out a sigh. "I don't want to talk anymore."

So, we don't.

* * *

Craig has to go back to weekly therapy. His sessions were cut down to one a month due to prior progress, but he just ruined that.

I used to read Craig's journal all the time when we were kids. He knew and he never got angry at me. He'd pretend not to know and sometimes he'd write the most fucked up stuff just to try and shock me. I used to think they were just elaborate lies, but now I'm beginning to think there might've been cold, hard truth to what he was writing.

He's always so drained at the end of his sessions. He never feels better. It's like he just feels worse. He gets difficult and moody. I always want to know what he talks about with his therapist, but I'd never ask. I know he'd probably just get mad at me for not minding my own business.

Around early evening, I make my way to Craig's house. He's done his session by now. He'll probably be cranky.

I walk to his house and let myself in, announcing my presence.

Craig is in the living room pacing. His mom is reading a book and the TV is on low volume while Ruby flicks through the channels. I'm assuming Thomas is at work since he's the only one who isn't here. No one looks like they're paying too much attention to him.

"Hi, Clyde," Laura says somewhat offhandedly.

"Hey," I greet in return.

Craig doesn't bother saying anything. He lets out a loud moan, rubbing his head. He looks like he's ready to have a temper tantrum.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask suddenly.

"Shut up," he murmurs. There's no malice in his tone – not yet. He just sounds tired.

I stare at him for a minute. He looks distressed. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?" he retorts. "A big whore?"

"No!" I snap, getting impatient. "That's not what I meant!"

"Craig –" Laura sighs. "For fuck's sake, stop. Just stop."

"Make me," he bites out.

"Isn't therapy supposed to make you feel better?" Ruby cuts in. "It always seems to make you feel worse and then you get all annoying and whiney."

"Ruby," Laura says her name in a warning tone.

"Everyone shut up!" Craig shouts angrily before leaving the room and stomping up the stairs.

I follow him and keep trying to talk to him, but he doesn't want to listen. I don't think anything I say is even registering to him.

He moves into the bathroom and then tries to open the medicine cabinet, but it's locked. Good. His mom is probably monitoring his pill intake, making sure he takes what he's supposed to and no more. He lets out a scoff and when I think he's about to punch right through it, he turns to me. "Go away!" he shouts at me, slumping on the floor and sitting in the corner of the room up against the bathtub.

"Craig –" I try.

"GO!" he shrieks and I swear I've never heard anyone scream louder in my life. It sounds especially frightening coming from a guy like Craig. He never yells.

But still, I hover. I hear footsteps approaching from behind me. When I turn around I see Laura coming up the stairs. She moves past me and moves into the room, kneeling on the floor and allowing Craig to rest his head on her lap. He lets out soft sobs at first, but they grow louder.

"Mom…" he chokes out. "Mommy, I…"

"Sh," Laura hushes softly, but Craig continues crying, saying that it hurts. What hurts? I don't know. Everything, probably.

I let myself out after that. It's a heartbreaking scene. Craig isn't the kind of person who will cry for his mom. He must really be hurting – so much that he doesn't care anymore.

I sit on the front porch steps and take out my cellphone in a weak attempt to distract myself. I check my messages, seeing I have one from Bebe asking about Craig. He didn't want anyone knowing he was taken to the emergency room when it happened. I know it's because he wasn't up for any more visitors than he already had. His family was one thing, me and Kenny were just an added bonus he wasn't okay with. So, I kept quiet until he was transferred to a psych ward. Then I told everyone what happened. None of them were surprised. After all, this has happened before. Maybe it'll happen again.

I text her back and tell her Craig isn't okay since I'm not really sure what else to say and I don't want to lie to her. I've been trying not to lie, not to myself and not to other people. I wish Craig would do the same. It's hard keeping secrets. They're not really worth all the trouble they cause.

I check my emails and my Facebook notifications and then I pocket my phone, zoning out. The wind blows in my face and it's warm. The sun is still high in the sky. I don't know how long I'm sitting here, but soon I hear the front door open behind me and Craig sits down next to me.

"Don't tell anyone about that," he murmurs, looking embarrassed. Plus, you can totally tell he was just bawling. His nose is red and his eyes are bloodshot.

"I won't, dude," I promise gently, "but you know, you shouldn't be ashamed."

"Ugh," he moans, swiping at his eyes. "I probably look like shit. I should just stay inside." He makes a move to stand, but I grab his hand and keep him seated.

"You don't," I tell him. "You look nice. Pretty, even. You always do."

He offers me a small smile. "I like you best," he says out of the blue. "You treat me the nicest, even though I hate it when you call me out." A pause. "It bothered me a lot when you called me a spoiled brat," he murmurs. "There's this popular misconception that says people with borderline personality are just that – brats. We're manipulative, spoiled brats who can be abusive… and whether or not it's true for some people, I don't want it to be true for me."

Borderline personality disorder… He never says it. It always sounds so weird to hear.

"You're not like that," I tell him. "I'm sorry I might've made you feel like you were. I was upset and at a loss, so I lashed out at you."

"I forgive you," he responds, leaning forward and pecking me on the lips. "I do that often. So, I get it. I forgive you."

"Well, that was a turn of events," I say when he draws back. "Hey, uh… Is this why you were so upset today?"

He shakes his head. "Let's walk," he suggests out of the blue.

"All right," I agree.

We both stand up and move down his driveway. His feet are bare, but he doesn't seem to mind. It's summer, after all. We move down along the sidewalk and we're both quiet, so I decide to be the first to say something.

"So, how's therapy?" I ask.

"It's different," he says. "I used to do cognitive psychotherapy, but this is called dialectical behavioural therapy. It's like a modified version of cognitive psychotherapy, but apparently it has a higher success rate for people with BPD since it was actually developed by someone with BPD."

"Are you optimistic?"

"I'm trying to be," he confesses. "Still not sure how I feel about it, though."

The first therapy he ever tried was group therapy. Apparently doctors fear patients with BPD. They like to try and treat people with BPD in group settings so they can try to kill a bunch of birds with one stone. Craig hated it so much he just stopped going. I have a hard time picturing him in group therapy – sharing his problems with a bunch of strangers.

He seems better right now – lighter, too. I think crying offered him some momentary relief. I know that it'll stop soon and he'll once again be ripping himself apart. His moods go in these torturous cycles, but no matter what he's feeling, it's intense. Sometimes he gets embarrassed about feeling intense joy over seemingly small events, but I like seeing it. I think it's cute. Unfortunately as quick as his mood turns happy, it can turn the other way around. It happens when something doesn't go his way, even if it's something small and seemingly unimportant.

He's happy when he gets a cup of coffee, but if that cup of coffee is too hot when he takes his first sip he'll get upset. If it tastes bad, his day will be ruined until something good happens to make him forget about the coffee. They say you shouldn't cry over spilled milk, but I've seen him spill drinks and proceed to punch himself in the face. People say he overreacts a lot, but I don't think it's overreacting because his emotions are out of whack and they're telling him it's bad. So, to him, it's not overreacting.

"Why are you always so upset after therapy?" I ask him, hoping he'll finally give me an answer.

"It's hard work," he starts vaguely. "A lot of people think it'll be easy. They think it's just talking and then getting advice or whatever, but that's not it at all. When Ruby said she thought I'd feel better or whatever earlier, she was being ignorant. She doesn't even know what happens during a therapy session. Most people don't. You're asked questions that you don't want to answer. You're forced to relive your worst memories because that's the only way you'll ever really be able to learn how to cope with them. So, that's what I've been doing. Reliving shit I'd rather keep buried. It makes me feel bad, but I try to power through it because I'm trying to be a better person… Still, it's hard. It's intense. It's a lot of fucking work."

"Yeah," I sympathize, though I can't really understand it on the same level as he can. His life experiences are so much different than my own. "Um… So, what kinds of things do you talk about?"

For a minute, he's quiet. I hear him sigh and then finally say, "Just… stuff I try to keep buried on normal days. I think he's trying to figure out why I am the way I am so he can try to fix certain harmful behavioural patterns or whatever."

"What kind of stuff is it?" I pry.

He glances at me, frowning. "You really want to know, don't you? I feel like you've been trying to figure it out for years."

"I have," I confess. "I mean… I just want to understand you. I want to know everything about you."

"You know me better than anyone else," he says, "and honestly… I don't know why I am the way I am. Maybe it's genetic. I can't really know that for sure, though, since I'm adopted."

"But…?" I urge.

"But uh…" he pauses, trailing off. "You know, I've considered telling you this before. I've tried real hard to gather up the guts to do it, but I always falter because it was the worst fucking moment of my life."

I frown at that. "You don't have to tell me now, Craig… I can wait. Just tell me when you're ready."

He shakes his head. "I want to do it now. Then it'll be over and you'll know. You'll understand." A pause. "Um… When I was twelve, I saw someone die."

I feel my eyebrows draw together. "Shit," I whisper. "I'm sorry… Who was it?"

"My uncle," he says, letting out a breath. "My dad's brother… He came over and started fighting with my parents because he needed money but they didn't want to give him any because they knew he'd just blow it on crack or something. He said he'd kill himself if they didn't, but they weren't about to budge. It changed when he, um, pulled out a gun. I thought he was going to kill us, but he just killed himself - just like he said he would. Ruby was only little, so she was in her bed sleeping. She didn't have to see. I guess it could have been worse. I wasn't molested. I wasn't abused. I just saw someone die… but kids are impressionable and seeing something like that as a kid shaped me in a bad way."

I put my arm around him briefly, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm really sorry you had to witness that," I say sincerely.

"It's whatever," he murmurs. "Well… no, it's not. I feel like I've mostly coped with the actual event, but now I'm just dealing with all the after effects of the event and how it kind of moulded my personality. It really messed me up."

"Yeah," I whisper. "Thank you for telling me. I know it was probably hard."

"Yeah," he says, letting out a cut laugh. "I hate talking about that… but you deserved to know. You've stuck by me ever since we met and you're always so patient."

"You're worth it."

He chuckles at that, but says nothing more on the subject.

"I love you," I say out of the blue, since now is as good a time as any.

He pauses, glancing at me. "What?"

"I love you," I repeat myself.

"I love you, too…" he answers slowly.

"I mean… I'm _in love_ with you," I reiterate.

"Oh," is all he says. Then he's quiet. He doesn't say it back, but he does reach for my hand and hold it in his. So, I guess that's something. "What now, then?" he asks after a few minutes of silence.

"I want you to just be mine," I tell him. It's a stupid, childish request – one he doesn't' have to accept.

Nonetheless…

"All right," he says. "Then in return you'll be just mine." A pause. "I'll try not to cheat on you… and I'll try not to act completely crazy."

I'll ignore the cheating comment for now. It's a conversation for another time.

"Don't censor yourself," I tell him. "Scream and cry and go nuts if it'll make you feel better. It sucks bottling things up."

He lets out a laugh. "Yeah, it does… I really blew my lid earlier."

"How'd it feel?" I ask.

"Embarrassing… but good," he admits. "Kind of relieving."

I nod my head along to what he's saying. We round the cul de sac and turn around, walking back down towards his house.

"I think my mom was happy in a way," he adds. "Not happy to see me in pain, but happy I let her see me that way and happy I let her ease me… y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," I say softly.

He wrinkles his nose. "I'm still embarrassed, though."

"It'll wear off," I tell him.

Soon, we reach his driveway we let go of one another. He holds up his hand, waving as he turns away. "Thanks," he says out of the blue. "See yah tomorrow?"

I smile and nod. "Tomorrow."

.

.

.

 **Epilogue.**

I get a job at a call center. I don't want to go to university at this point in my life, but this is a tidy job. It'll do me for now. Plus, I'm good at talking. I'm quite the talker.

I head to Craig's after my first shift.

"How was it?" he asks as soon as he lets me in.

"A little stressful," I admit. "It was a lot to take in, but I think it'll get easier."

Craig nods his head. We head to the living room for a session of Netflix and chill. Yeah, that's often code for sex, but not this time.

Craig stares at the TV, fidgeting and picking at the skin on his cuticles. I grab one of his hands and hold it in mine as a weak attempt to get him to stop.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

"Don't be," I respond.

"Does it bother you?" he asks out of the blue.

"What?"

"The fact that I've been with so many people…"

I pause for a moment. "I'm trying not to be _that guy_ ," I say after. "That jealous, clingy asshole of a guy. What you did before we officially got together doesn't matter. Everyone has a life before their current partner. They shouldn't be made to feel bad about it."

He smiles bitterly. "Sorry I'm so easy."

"Craig," I say his name, "can you honestly say that about yourself?"

"Yes," he bites out.

For a moment, I'm quiet. I turn around and move towards the mantel, grabbing an old family photo. In it, Craig is tiny. He's smiling. There are little dimples in his cheeks. I haven't seen him smile like that in years.

"Look," I start, showing the picture to him. "Would you be able to look your little self in the eyes and tell him that he's stupid and horrible?" I ask. "Imagine saying those vile things to a child… Imagine the look on his face. It'd be fucking heartbreaking. You're breaking your own heart."

He's quiet for a moment. "I never thought about it like that… No, I wouldn't be able to say that to him."

"So, what would you say to him – to yourself?"

Craig frowns, crossing his arms. "I'd tell him… it gets better," he whispers, "even though it hasn't yet. I wouldn't want him to completely lose hope. If he did, then it'd be over."

"So, be kind to yourself," I continue "When you're mean to yourself, you're being mean to this little boy. He's still a huge part of you. I know he is." I set the photograph back on the mantel and Craig looks upset when I turn back around. "Experiences make us who we are… and a lot of your experiences were shitty," I say. "So, I understand. I get it."

"Sometimes I don't," he murmurs. "I don't know why I sleep around. I have no reason to, really. I've read a lot about it in books and on the internet and I know a lot of people would probably just assume I was raped or something bad like that, but nothing like that even happened."

"It's a way to seek comfort," I tell him. "It's a way to feel close. Maybe after your uncle died, you had a hard time connecting to people. You see sex as a way for you to connect, even though it doesn't really work like that."

He snorts. "You sound like my therapist now… but I guess you're right."

I smile faintly. "So, what now?"

"I want to find a job. You inspired me and I don't want to feel like I'm behind."

"Pace yourself," I say. "You're in no rush. I doubt your parents are about to kick you out."

He laughs. "Definitely not. I think they want me to stay as long as possible."

* * *

Later in the month, I take Craig out on a date. Since he hates eating in public, we forego dinner and a movie. Instead, we just go to the Denver mall. It's pretty casual, but I think casual suits us.

We get sodas and window shop for a while before heading to a thrift shop and I try on bad clothes as a joke. Craig loosens up a bit and joins me.

We squeeze into the fitting room with our ill-suited clothing. For me, Craig chooses a polka dotted zoot suit. For Craig, I choose a pair of neon colored hammer pants and a matching shirt that is most definitely from the 90's.

"Oh, no," he says as he puts it on.

I start chortling.

"I can't believe you're making me do this."

I smile slightly. "I bet you're gonna look _super_."

"Yeah, super _stupid_ ," he says. "This is the stupidest I've ever looked and that's saying a lot because I do a lot of dumb shit."

Once we're both dressed we have a good laugh before taking a selfie in the mirror. "Y'know," I say with a snicker, "you can actually pull that off."

He snorts at that, staring at himself in the mirror. "You're the only person I'd ever do this shit with."

"Aw," I coo at him and he nudges my arm.

* * *

When we change out of the silly clothes, we get back in my car and head home. On our way back to South Park, we grab take out to wrap up a good day.

We eat at my house and when we're lounging in front of the television, I find myself watching him instead of the TV screen. When he catches me staring he glances at me and makes a silly face. I crack a smile and he smiles back before looking away, returning his attention to the TV.

I know things won't always be this good, but I've been through enough shit with Craig, so I think I'm prepared for more bad things. He might try to hurt himself. He might try to do worse than that, 'cause fuck knows he keeps trying… but I'll be there for him like I always am. If you want to be with someone – really want to be with someone – then you need to take the good with the bad. Things can't always be peachy.

I love Craig and I think he could love me, too. So, right now, that's what matters. I'll try not to worry about the future and all the scary possibilities. I'm just going to concentrate on the present.

I inch towards him, putting my arm around him. He leans into me and we're quiet – just the sound of the TV, just the hum of the furnace.

I put my palm against his chest and I can feel his heart.

 _Beat, beat, beat._

He's alive. He's warm. He's mine. Finally.

 **Fin.**


End file.
